Roma looked up from her pocket-watch and smiled as Hermione and Anissa stepped out of the Floo. Anissa broke away from Hermione, ran to Roma, and threw herself into a hug.
"Welcome back, Sweetness," Roma said. "Did you have a good time?"
"I want to go home," she said, her voice tight.
Roma's forehead furrowed, and she looked at Hermione. "Did something happen?"
"We, um, ended up spending the night with a friend of mine," Hermione said. "My house—"
"I just want to go home, OK?" Anissa interrupted.
"Of course, Sweetie." Roma flipped the end of her sleeve over her hand and reached into her pocket, then set a few coins on the table beside her tea. "Mr. Capper, I'm leaving a sickle three for the cuppa."
The pub proprietor waved to show he'd heard.
"Hermione, thank you very much for your help," Roma said.
"Any time."
"Ready?" Anissa got a firm grip on Roma's arm and nodded, and they vanished with a crack of Apparition.
Hermione needed to go home. She knew this. If nothing else, Crookshanks would be wanting his breakfast. But instead of saying her house when she stepped into the Floo, she said Diagon Alley, and found herself walking towards Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Ron would surely be there.
Unfortunately, the shop was already packed. Perhaps that shouldn't have surprised her four days before Christmas. Ron would be up to his ears in work, and he didn't need to be worrying about her on top of it, especially when there was nothing he could do except listen. If only the Institute's library was open. If there'd been anything in the Daily Prophet, Mr. Hambric, the Institute librarian, could help her find it. She'd have to wait until Monday, though, assuming Mr. Hambric hadn't asked for that day off like half the Institute had, and that seemed like an eternity away.
Hermione wandered back the way she'd come and found herself in Flourish and Blotts. She wasn't sure what to tell the salesperson she wanted, but somehow they ended up with a rather expensive volume on amateur genealogy. A chapter on capturing living history contained instructions for a Ginsburgh Playback Charm, which would show past events that had happened in a place. She bought the book without thinking about the dent it put in her budget and took it to the Leaky Cauldron to read over.
It was a complicated spell, but at least forgiving. You needed to be where the event occurred and know when it happened and the name of a living Being who had been present, but it didn't have to be exact. You could use a person's nickname and the time could be "when Uncle Harry met Aunt Sally" rather than "June 26, 1967, 12:23 PM." She was about to get up when her eye caught the final paragraph in the section:
A word of warning: This spell will show you what happened, which may not be what you want to see. Many family legends have been debunked with this spell, which can take the fun out of things. Be especially careful when using this spell to view events that may have turned violent or disturbing. It does nothing to censor or defuse the actual events; what happened is what you will see, no matter how unpleasant it may be.
This was a terrible idea. Hermione knew it even as she went to the Leaky Cauldron's Floo. In a moment, she was home. Crookshanks trotted out to greet her and rubbed against her leg. She reached down and petted him, then flicked her wand towards the kitchen. When he heard his food clatter into his bowl, he seemed like he didn't want to leave her, but his breakfast was late and his hunger won out.
Whatever had happened, it probably hadn't happened on the ground floor. When Hermione moved in, that was empty except for a powerful Unwelcoming Charm on the front porch. Hermione stepped out of the first floor sitting room where her Floo connected and walked to the stairs. There had been a flat on either side of them when she moved in, so this seemed as good a place as any to start.
She opened the book, read over the spell, and took a deep breath. It was a complicated spell, one difficult to learn out of a book; it took her three tries to cast it, anchoring it on 'Anissa Rowle' and 'just before her parents died'. The house changed around her. It darkened, lit primarily by the light of a slightly waning moon and the soft glow of the finials on top of the staircase bannister, which acted like a nightlight. The open hallway on either side of the landing changed to doors, one labeled '1A' in brass letters and the other labeled '1B'.
A few seconds passed in quiet, and then a series of loud cracks rang out. Hermione jumped back as someone dressed head-to-toe in dragon hide apparated almost on top of her. She recognized that uniform: Werewolf Hunters, six of them. One darted up to the attic and one down the stairs, while the rest split up and broke open the labeled doors. Shouts and sounds of a struggle rang out. Two Hunters drug two people out of the 1A flat: a woman in a nightgown and a man in pajamas, both in their twenties.
"Werewolf Capture Unit. On your knees!" The Hunters shouted over each other, hard to understand, and the man and woman were slow to kneel. "Hands on your heads!" The woman obeyed. The man put one hand on his head, but his left arm hung limply at his side. "Both hands!"
"I can't!" the man shouted back.
"He has a silver scar in that shoulder," the woman said in a voice of forced calm. "He can't move that arm."
The closer Hunter yanked aside the collar of the man's pajamas to view the twisted knot of scar tissue. With a grumble, he grabbed the man's left hand and plunked it on his head. "Hold it there."
The man glared, but obeyed.
"What're your names?" ask the other Hunter, who was pointing her wand at them and holding two more in her left hand. That was Hembree's voice.
"I'm Eleanor. Rowle."
"Jacob Rowle."
"Brother and sister?" Hembree asked.
Jacob narrowed his eyes. "Husband and wife."
The other Hunter snorted. "Cohabitating."
"Hornby's right. Two werewolves can't get a marriage license; you're not allowed in that office." Hembree gestured her wand towards Eleanor. "What's your real last name?"
"Rowle. I had it legally changed."
Hornby snorted again. "Where's a werewolf get money for that?"
A dangerous smile crossed Eleanor's lips. "My boss at Mason and Burr Solicitors was nice enough to give me a discount. I'm a paralegal for the goblin side of the firm, under Mr. Kornoc."
The Hunters looked at each other. Even though they stayed silent, and even though their faces were hidden by their dragon hide hoods, their eyes clearly said "oh crap."
"What do you do?" Hembree asked Jacob, doing her best to hide it.
"I'm a jeweler for Fenwick's Fine Jewelry."
"You help customers?"
"I don't even work in the shop. I'm in their studio, doing repairs and design."
The Hunter who had gone up to the attic ran back down. "Upstairs is clear."
"Help them in there," Hembree said, jerking her head towards the 1B flat. The Hunter obeyed, and a few moments later he and two others dragged another woman and two men out to the staircase landing and forced them to kneel with their hands on their heads.
The final Hunter ran up the stairs. "Bottom two floors are clear. Got their wands?" Hembree held up her two, and a Hunter from the other flat held up three. He directed Hembree to hand hers over to the other Hunter and asked, "Got names?"
"We're working on it, Withers." Hembree pointed her wand at the other woman prisoner. "What's your name?"
"Leslie Crockford."
Hembree pointed to one of the men, and he said, "Kyle Sayers."
"He's Sebastian Greyson," Leslie said as Hembree pointed to the other man. Three prominent scars marred his forehead as though he'd been cut with a hot knife blade.
The Hunter behind Sebastian jostled him with her knee. "Can't you talk?"
"No, he can't," Leslie said as Sebastian shook his head. "He lost his voice to a fake werewolf cure when he was a kid."
The Hunter raised an eyebrow. "Can he do magic?"
Sebastian nodded as Leslie said, "He can hear. And he's probably better at magic than you are."
"How does he cast without talking?"
Leslie rolled her eyes. "Haven't you ever cast a spell silently? I thought they taught that in school."
"Don't get smart."
"One of us needs to."
"That's enough," Withers said. He took Hembree's spot, and she moved to the back, keeping her wand trained on the group. "All right, which of you are the alphas?"
The werewolves glanced back and forth. "What are you talking about?" Eleanor asked.
"Come off it. Every werewolf pack has two alphas and two betas." He pointed his wand at Leslie. "You with the mouth, I'm guessing you're the alpha bitch?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"We're not a pack," Eleanor said.
Withers snorted. "Funny, I'm counting five werewolves here."
"Funny, I'm counting two flats," Leslie shot back.
"They just rent a flat from me," Eleanor said. "I ran all this past Mr. Kornoc when the Anti-Pack Law was passed. They have their own kitchen and their own bath, and they're a separate address. That is perfectly legal. Miss Crockford, you two only have the one guest, right?"
"Yes ma'am. Just Kyle, and just until he gets a job. You made it clear you'd kick us out if we had any more."
Withers went pale, but still gestured his wand towards Leslie. "Are you registered?"
"No, sir, I'm not. I suppose I owe you 30 Galleons."
He turned back to Eleanor. "How about you?"
"Yes, I am. Last update was four months ago. Same with my husband."
"You know she wasn't?"
"I am not required to police my tenants, especially not for misdemeanors. Do you have something to arrest us for, or not? If you do, I want my solicitor. If not, I want my wand back, and I want you out of my house."
The Hunters looked at each other, and some sound in the 1A flat caught their attention. Hornby and another Hunter whipped around, pointing their wands at the flat door.
"Is someone else in this building?" Hembree asked.
"I have two children," Eleanor said in a slow, measured voice. "They're probably hiding; you must have scared them half to death."
Hembree turned towards Hornby with a glare that could melt a cauldron, and growled through clenched teeth, "You missed the kids."
"I'm sorry, I—"
"That's enough," Withers interrupted. "Call them out here."
"They're seven and five years old," Jacob said. "They can't do anything to you."
"No one's going to hurt them," Hembree said.
"Here's what we're going to do," Withers said to Eleanor. "You call your kids out here, and then we're going to take another sweep through the house. If we don't find anything incriminating and no one else is hiding, then we're going to take all your unregistered friends in. You can have them back when their fines are paid."
"Or when I file a writ of habeas corpus," Eleanor said. "That's not an arrestable offense, and you know it."
"I suppose we'll discuss it when you bring in your writ. Now, are you going to call your kids out, or do we have to go in after them?"
Eleanor took a deep breath and turned towards the flat door. "Vinnie, Ani, sweeties, can you come out here, please?" She paused, then added. "I know you're scared, but it's going to be over soon. Please come out."
Seconds limped by, and then the doorknob of the flat turned. Hornby started shaking, his wand quivering in his hand.
"Slowly!" Withers shouted. The knob stopped.
"Take it easy, sweeties," Eleanor said. "These people are a little nervous."
The door swung open. Standing there was a young boy, and behind him a little girl clutching a stuffed toy. As they stepped forward, the two Hunters pointing wands at the door started shouting. Even Hermione couldn't make it out at first. Something about a weapon. A thought hit her, and she darted to Hornby's side. The apartment was dark; he couldn't see Anissa well from his position. All he could make out was a shadow holding a shadow.
"It's a teddy bear, Hornby," Hembree called over them. "She's just got a toy. Stand—"
"Fragmina Argentea!"
A shower of silver shards exploded from his wand. The boy pushed the girl out of the way, and they hit him instead, ripping through his arm and shoulder. The werewolves erupted into screams. Eleanor leapt to her feet, grabbed Withers's wand with her left hand and punched him square across his face with her right. He lost his grip on the wand as he went reeling, and she pointed it at the Hunter holding the werewolves' wands. All five went flying into the air, and the other werewolves scrambled up, grabbing them out of midair or scooping them up from the floor. The other Hunters started casting, the air exploding with silver shards.
"Stop it!" Hermione screamed. The scene around her froze. She covered her mouth with her hands. "Oh God." The little boy had hundreds of silver shards sticking out of him, the skin around them bubbling as though burnt and oozing blood. Hornby was casting the same spell at Eleanor, and she was casting a Shield Charm. Some of the shards were getting past it; she already had burnt cuts on her left cheek and arm. Most of them, though, were turning in mid-air and heading back at Hornby, the first of them just reaching him. Behind her, Leslie was running towards the children. A Hunter had cast the silver spell at her back. It was going to hit her full on. The young men were trying to defend, but they were outnumbered and not using lethal force like the Hunters.
Hermione tried to vanish the scene, but it wouldn't vanish. It took her a moment to remember the book in her hand. She frantically flipped through it, trying to find how to end the playback spell, but tears blurred her vision. Someone knocked on her front door. She didn't realize it was real until they knocked again, louder this time. "Go away!" she screamed, an ugly, tear-choked scream.
The door creaked open. "Hermione?" came Seph's voice as he peaked around the doorframe.
Oh no. The date. She'd completely forgotten. She ran to the staircase railing. "Don't come up. I started a Ginsburgh Playback spell, and I can't get it to stop."
"What's going on?"
She started down the stairs, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to find words to explain it. Instead, she burst into sobs. He ran up the stairs to her, completely ignoring what she'd just said, and hugged her. "Merlin's beard," he said, looking behind her as she cried on his shoulder. He turned and guided her down the stairs. "Come on, let's get you away from this. Where's your kitchen?"
"It wasn't a kitchen when this happened. I don't even know if it's gone while this is playing, or if we're about to walk into the wall I added."
"Let's go outside, then."
He led her outside, and the bright sunlight blinded her. She'd forgotten it was really noon, not midnight. He eased her to a seat on the steps. "Did you cast this out of that book?"
"Yeah."
"Does it have the counterspell?"
"I think so. I was trying to find it when you knocked."
"Let me see." She handed him the book, and he flipped through until he found the spell, then read through it. "I think I can do this. I'll try to stop it."
"Seph—"
"It's OK. I won't go past the foyer. If I can't get it, this says it'll break when you leave the area. We'll stop it one way or another, I promise. OK?"
She nodded, and he went inside. As the door closed behind him, Hermione noticed a folded parchment stuck to it. She stood and pulled it off. It was a note from Roma. Anissa had told her what happened, and she'd come to check on Hermione. She must have been there while Hermione was still on Diagon.
She'd just finished reading it when Seph stepped back out. "I got it." He held the door open to show that the house was back to normal, lit by sunlight streaming in the windows. Crookshanks darted out the door before he closed it, and as Hermione sat back down on the steps, he leapt onto her lap, butted her chest with his head, and purred.
Seph sat down on the stoop beside her. "That, um… That really happened here, didn't it?"
"Yeah." Hermione explained to him about Anissa, and the names started to connect in her mind. The girl who poked at Roma's loose tooth, the boy who was attacked by the Silversmith Sniping Blade. "Merlin's Beard, these were some of the people I've been learning about. I didn't ask Roma where they were now; I didn't think it was any of my business." She set Crookshanks to the side and stood, looking at the door as though she'd never seen it before. "I feel like I knew them. It's like finding out that this happened to Prof. Moody or Mr. Diggle or anyone else in the Order of the Phoenix who disappeared." She ran her hand through her hair as Seph stood. "I shouldn't have cast that. I knew it was stupid before I even did it."
"I would have done the same thing." Seph put a hand on her shoulder. "What can I do to help?"
She tried to gather her thoughts. As a child, she always lost her head in a crisis, and some of that was still in her, but the war had trained her to move past it and pull together a plan. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, forcing herself to think of next steps. "Um, this might sound weird, but I'd still like to go to the game. I could use a distraction."
"Of course. Absolutely."
She opened her eyes again, and her gaze fell on the letter in her hand. "I need to stop by a post office first, though. My friend stopped by to check on me. I want to let her know I'm… Well, I'm not sure what I am, but I don't want her to worry."
"Not a problem. Do you have somewhere else to stay for a while?"
"My friend Ginny said I could stay with her as long as I need to when I took Anissa to her place. I was going to stay overnight at my parents' anyway for Christmas Eve and Christmas, and Monday I'll have work to distract me. First thing Monday morning, though, I'm going down to the Werewolf Capture Unit and find out what happened here. I want to hear their side of it."
"Do you want me to come with you?"
"I think I can handle it," Hermione said. "But I might stop by your office if I change my mind."
"That's fine." Seph's face scrunched up with nausea. "What about lunch?"
Hermione put her hand over her stomach and shook her head. "I don't think I ever want to eat again."
"Me neither," he said, half in relief.
"If that gives us time, though," Hermione said as another thought came to her, "I'd like to stop by Gringotts."